


In A Winter Common

by adevyish



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Asexual Character, Asexual Niall, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adevyish/pseuds/adevyish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If his flatmate’s objections and the lack of musical equipment weren’t going to stop Niall from winning Battle of the Bands with an electric guitar, the global electricity shortage certainly won’t.</p><p>Or, the one where Niall somehow convinced four people to enter Battle of the Bands with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Winter Common

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to [Ruby](http://but-red-means-stop.tumblr.com) for the beta and cheering me on through this, to [thelastoftheredhotswamis](http://thelastoftheredhotswamis.tumblr.com) for the Britpick and the advice, and finally to the mods for organizing this ficathon ♡

It all started when Niall saw the sheet of A4 tacked onto the Fisher Hall noticeboard. _“Uni League BATTLE OF THE BANDS AUDITIONS!!”_ it proclaimed in sloppily inked block letters. _“Compete for FAME, GLORY, and PINTS!”_

Niall was a skint uni student so he was always up for free pints. And, he reasoned, first year was the best time to compete before he became swamped with coursework and responsibilities. But it was the tiny print at the bottom, just below _“Piano available”_ , that caught his eye:

_“Electricity supplied.”_

Niall rushed up the stairs and slammed open the door to his student flat. “Payno!” he shouted, running into Liam’s room. It was the mirror opposite of Niall’s, including in cleanliness, so Niall carelessly ran to Liam’s tidy bed without worrying about stray piles of looseleaf and flung himself down with his messenger bag and his guitar. Liam’s pillow smelled nice and freshly laundered and Niall snuggled in a bit more.

Liam abruptly stopped humming. “Hi Niall,” he heard him say.

With a bit of reluctance, Niall rolled over and propped his head up with his left hand. Behind Liam the brickwork across the courtyard was awash in the golden glow of the setting sun. “Do battle of the bands with me,” Niall said.

Liam tilted his head to the left, shrugging easily. “Sure,” he said. “Why?”

“You’re a great singer, I can play guitar.” Niall strummed the air. “We’ll be brilliant.”

“It sounds fun,” Liam said, much too hesitant and unconvinced for Niall’s liking. “But everyone else is a great singer and can play guitar, Niall.”

“You’re the best singer at this uni, Payno,” Niall said, because it was a matter of factual record. “And the poster said they had electricity! No fucking power meters or quotas! Bring an electric guitar and an amp, it’ll be the fucking craic!”

“We don’t have an amp,” Liam sputtered, eyes wide. “We don’t have a electric guitar!”

If Liam was thinking about it, he was more or less convinced. Niall grinned. “That’s a yes!”

“No, Niall, how are we supposed to practice—”

Niall rushed over and gave Liam a quick thank-you hug. “No take-backs! Gonna sign up now, later!” He ran out of the room and halfway down the corridor, before noticing the distinctly absent weight on his back.

Niall ran back to their door, where Liam was already standing with Niall’s bag in hand. “We don’t even have a name,” Liam said.

“It’ll be fine,” Niall said, grabbing his bag. He slung it over his head and patted it once it was in place. “Thanks, Lima Bean! Bye!”

 

Niall did in fact have an electric guitar hidden under his bed, given to him by an uncle when Niall had been fourteen and going through a ’70s rock phase. The imitation Gibson had been made in the heyday of industrial manufacturing, when energy was still cheap and plentiful. Niall’s uncle had no need for an electric instrument once electricity costs had risen to prohibitive heights, and it had little other value. He hadn’t passed on the matching amp; that had long been dismantled for spare parts for Niall’s da’s shop.

Unfortunately for Niall and Liam, two guitars did not make a band.

“We could make a xylophone out of some scrap metal,” Liam suggested. The two of them were ensconced in the back corner of the bakery Niall worked at, at the smallest table in the shop. The heating was out in their hall for the second time that week, and Niall knew from lots of experience that neither the owner Barbara nor his coworker Harry had the heart to kick them out. There were two half-finished mugs of cold tea on the table for appearances’ sake, but Niall and Liam’s real purpose were the textbooks and notebooks taking up most of the table.

Niall turned towards the brightly-lit counter, where Harry was currently putting the finishing touches on a sandwich. “What do you think, Harry?”

“It’s not quite an electric band without a synthesizer,” Harry drawled, not bothering to turn around. “Grace might have one,” he added.

Niall tried to place the name, but couldn’t. “She the girl you’re house-sitting for?”

“No, that’s Cara,” Harry replied, as he tried to get a slice of what Niall guessed was brie to stick on a baguette.

“Must be nice,” Liam said. “The houses, that is.”

Harry pouted. “I suppose so.” He came around the display case with his plated creations carefully clutched in both hands. The bell on the door tinkled lightly as Harry went outside to serve a couple seated on the sidewalk.

“He has to find somewhere to stay in a month,” Niall explained to Liam, as he mindlessly expanded an equation on his homework. “’S a load of shit, house is massive.”

Liam stared at Niall in alarm. “He can’t crash with us.”

“Don’t worry, Harry’s an ace cuddler,” Niall joked, poking Liam’s leg with a foot.

Liam shook his head, mouthing ‘no’ in panic. Sometimes Liam took things too seriously, Niall thought, and he sighed.

“I’m joking, I know we can’t get kicked out,” he said, fingers fiddling with the pristine wood of his brand-new pencil. “’M worried for him, though. Says he was expecting to stay there for a year, and now he can’t find a room in Zone 1.”

“Gossiping about me behind my back,” Harry said, as he came to a stop by their table. He put an arm around Niall’s right shoulder and hooked a bony chin over Niall’s other shoulder, so Niall didn’t think he was mad. Maybe annoyed.

“Soz,” Niall said, ignoring Harry’s heavy head and reaching a hand back to play with Harry’s mini ponytail.

“You didn’t say you were going out,” Liam blurted.

Niall hadn’t exactly _told_ Liam anything, in all their months of living together, but it was so absurd that he couldn’t help burst out laughing and nearly taking Harry’s head off.

“Ow,” Harry said, rubbing his chin. “But we’re not.” After a moment, he added cheerfully, “Not that I wouldn’t.”

“Not really interested,” Niall said, laughing along. He was used to it; he used the same line every time he ran into well-meaning townsfolk or extended family inquiring after his relationship status. Or not-so-extended family.

“I didn’t want to assume,” Liam said, which just set Niall off on another round of laughter.

“Think I need a bit more of a bad boy than Niall, myself,” Harry said.

“Of course you do,” Barbara said, shaking her head.

“Oi,” Niall said. He gave Harry’s arm a slap for good measure and shooed him towards the counter.

 

The auditions were in two weeks, and nothing seemed to be causing Niall’s flatmate more stress than the “HORAN PAYNE” inked carefully on to the sign-up sheet in the Union and the “STYLES” on the same line inked slightly less carefully. This stress had even spread to their lectures and labs, disrupting Liam’s designated role as a dedicated, hard-working student.

“How are we supposed to find an amplifier,” Liam moaned from the surface of their wooden work table halfway into a lab.

“We’re electrical engineers,” Niall replied, trying to jam all sixteen pins of their single multiplexer chip into the breadboard they were using to construct their circuit. “It can’t be that bad.”

He connected the circuit. The diode did not light up.

“Don’t think I wired this wrong,” Niall said, leaning down to peer at the tiny white markings on the chip. He passed the breadboard to Liam, who studied the mess of wires and chips for a moment and shrugged.

“Think it’s burnt, mate,” someone said.

“Fuck,” Niall said succinctly, looking up to see Louis, their lab supervisor, a man who seemed entirely too young and too cool to be a lab supervisor.

Liam quickly slapped a hand over Niall’s mouth and said, “We’re sorry.”

Louis made an amused noise. “It’s nothing,” he said with a warm smile. “D’you mind if I have a look?”

Niall shook his head and made a muffled agreement against Liam’s hand.

“Go ahead,” Liam said at the same time.

In less than a minute, Louis deftly took half the wires out and piled them a brightly coloured tangle of wires, selected a few wires and easily threaded them into corresponding holes, and checked the circuit. Niall was in awe. “It’s gone,” Louis said. “You can bring in a working circuit next lab and I’ll give you a full mark.”

“But,” Liam said, sounding very soon on the way to desperate. “How are we supposed to get a multiplexer?”

“Ah, fuck,” Niall said, starting to feel a bit desperate too. Chips like multiplexers were at least twenty quid each, and they were barely feeding themselves as it was.

Louis was silent, his lips tightening. He seemed to shake his head a little, and quietly said, “I’m not supposed to help, but fuck it. Meet me outside after class, yeah?”

Niall and Liam ended up working on their homework for the remaining half hour until the lab ended. Their fellow students quickly vacated the room, leaving the two of them and Louis behind.

“So,” Louis said. “You firsties don’t have a lecture after this, do you?”

Niall turned to Liam, as he kept track of both their schedules.

“No,” Liam answered.

“And you don’t mind following me to the ends of the earth?” Louis asked.

Niall said, “Not at all!”

Liam responded by stepping on his foot, which, ow.

The ends of the earth wasn’t too much of an exaggeration: they had to take the Tube south across two Zone checkpoints. The last time Niall had crossed any checkpoints was on the train in from the ferry port at Pembroke in Wales, and he’d slept through most of that journey. He hadn’t had a student card yet then, and it had been a hassle to get through with only his passport and uni papers. With their fancy electronic student cards, they barely got a glance.

“Here we are,” Louis said, as they came to a stop in front of an old tower block. It looked starkly utilitarian, drab grey concrete with lighter patches on its balconies that might have once been colourful. Plywood boards, haphazardly painted, covered its door where windows once were, and a rusted metal grate covered the boards. After a ritual of prodding at the key, turning the knob, and prodding at the key, Louis managed to shove the door open. “I’m on the seventh floor and the lift hasn’t worked since the dark ages,” Louis said, leading them in. “You can stay down here while I get my stuff.”

“Piggyback!” Niall shouted. Liam dutifully crouched down and let Niall climb on.

“It’s seven floors up,” Louis repeated, sounding dubious about Niall and Liam’s excellent venture.

“I’m fine,” Liam replied. “I lift weights.”

“Leemo’s a pro,” Niall said, shifting up slightly and getting a better grip on Liam’s shoulders.

Louis sighed. “You go first, I’m going to need to catch if you fall.”

“That’s worse,” Liam said. “We need you to find a phone and call an ambulance.”

“Oh, an ambulance, that’ll come quick,” Louis muttered. “Come on now,” he said, lightly pushing on Niall’s back to get them to move.

The stairwell was open-air and exposed concrete, a large number and the occasional graffiti painted at every floor. “It’s a great view,” Liam said, somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors. Niall lifted his head from Liam’s shoulder and saw the same dreary grid of tower blocks and complexes built in better days and fallen into disrepair.

“Don’t go write an ode about it,” Louis said from behind them. “Fucking hell when it rains.”

Liam carefully set Niall back on the exposed concrete floor after eight flights of stairs, and they followed Louis down the shadowed corridor. This key took fewer tries, and the door clicked open.

At first, Niall thought the glow in the flat was from candles, but as his eyes adjusted he saw overlapping strings of salvaged white and yellow Christmas lights hung around the cramped living area and kitchen.

“Hey Zayn,” Louis said, unlacing his well-worn canvas shoes. “This is Niall and Liam.”

“Hey,” said the man sitting on a stack of crates and cushions in the form of a sofa, hunched over a sketchbook.

“We should have a spare MUX,” Louis said, reaching into one of the sofa crates and pulling out a blue cookie tin. Niall was excited by the prospect of cookies, until Louis pried open the container to reveal a jumble of chips. He set it on the table and proceeded to pick up and examine each of them. “NAND gate, NAND gate, adder… here we go! A MUX.” Louis held out a palm with the multiplexer chip in it, and Liam picked it up gingerly.

“Thanks mate,” Liam said, “you’re a lifesaver. How much do we need to pay you?”

Louis waved him off. “These are leftovers from the class that graduated last year, they’re free. Last I checked it was working, but we should probably check again.” Liam returned the chip to Louis, who pulled out a breadboard and a diode from the same crate as before, and proceeded to wire a quick circuit. “It’s good.”

“Do you have parts for an amp?” Niall blurted out. Liam elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. Niall made a face at him.

“An amp?” Louis shook his head. “I have a few resistors, but definitely not a transformer. Battle of the bands?”

“Yeah,” Niall said, glad to be talking to a man who got it. Louis was too cool for the rest of them.

“Don’t know why you’d want to do that,” Louis said pursing his lips. “I did make a simple synthesizer as a proof of concept.” He flicked his eyes down and shrugged. “Summer project.”

“That’s wicked!” Niall exclaimed. Harry had definitely said an electric band should have a synthesizer, and Liam hadn’t disagreed, so Niall made an executive decision and asked, “You want in on the band?”

“It’ll be a lot of work,” Louis said, and looked and sounded entirely like he wanted to do it.

Zayn spoke up suddenly, and said, extremely casually, “Might be fun.”

And that was how they became “HORAN PAYNE STYLES TOMLINSON MALIK _(stop adding names!—committee)_ ”.

 

As Louis and Zayn’s place was too cramped, and Niall and Liam’s was in halls, their first official practice was at the house that Harry was house-sitting in Kensington.

House was an understatement. At two stories and three bedrooms and surrounded by a wrought iron gate, it was practically a mansion in Niall’s opinion. It stood bright white against the dreary rain, framed by small, spritely evergreens lining the house. Every house around them was similarly extravagant.

“You have some fucking posh friends,” Louis said, eyeing the gate distrustfully as they stood waiting for Harry to come fetch them.

Niall shrugged and adjusted the guitars hanging off his shoulder. “’S just Harry, he’s just house-sitting.”

“Still posh,” Louis said.

“He’s very nice,” Liam interjected. Good old diplomat Liam, Niall thought.

Zayn put a hand on Louis’ shoulder, whispering something, and Louis rolled his eyes and said, “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

That was when Niall spotted Harry coming out of the house, so he turned towards the house and shouted, “Hey Harry!”

Harry waved, running to the gate. “Hi,” he said. “You must be Niall and Liam’s friends.”

“Sure,” Louis said with what Niall was learning to recognize as Louis sarcasm. “Ow! Zayn!”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Zayn said, in the sort of tone that implied he was very sorry about the man who was his flatmate.

After a bit of fumbling, Harry managed to unlock the gate and let them in. “Cara said it’s fine if we stick to the sitting room,” he said, as he led them through the house.

“Thought she was in America,” Niall said.

“Phoned her a couple days ago,” Harry said, opening the door to an airy room with several antique chairs, tables, and a rug.

“She let us in _here_?” Liam exclaimed in horror.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I don’t think she enjoys the décor.”

“Well if she doesn’t like it, I certainly wouldn’t mind having it,” Louis declared, throwing himself onto a chaise lounge and looking completely out of place in his faded denim jeans and frayed wool jacket.

The rest of them settled into chairs or on the ground, and Niall couldn’t help notice how unusually _smug_ Harry was when he sat on the half-foot of space left on the chaise lounge Louis had claimed, even when Louis managed to not-so-accidentally kick his back.

Liam unfolded a crisp sheet of paper and cleared his throat. “Meeting agenda for the 11th of February.”

“This is the least rock group ever,” Louis moaned. Liam responded by glaring.

“Item one: Song choice,” Liam said.

Niall shrugged. “I’m fine with anything, but like, if we’re going electric, we ought to go all out.”

“A-Ha?” Harry asked.

“ _No_ ,” Niall and Liam shouted immediately. They had both overheard Harry singing “Take On Me” in the bakery far, far too many times.

Harry tried again. “Gloria Gaynor?”

“Please no,” Niall pleaded. “I’m your friend.”

“‘Bizarre Love Triangle?’” Louis suggested, his fingers tapping away on the wooden table.

“We’d have to change the song,” Harry said, in a slow, serious voice. “To ‘Bizarre Love Pentagon’.”

Niall burst out laughing. “You’re a riot,” he said, ignoring Liam covering his face with his hands beside him. Niall would make Liam appreciate a good pun before exams; it was one of his Flatmate Goals.

Zayn said, “Something recent, maybe?”

“Don’t really know too many recent songs,” Niall said, with a shrug. “Didn’t really get them on the radio.”

“I have some records we can listen to,” Harry said.

Louis shook his head. “We’ll want to do songs everyone knows,” he said. “And write a song of our own, we’ll have a greater chance of standing out.”

“We have _two weeks_ ,” Liam said with the same level of despair he had towards exams.

 _“Write a song”_ did end up on their list, along with several possible songs to cover, none of which were disco hits. Imperial College Union ought to give Niall an award for that alone.

“Item two: Guitar amplifier,” Liam said as he drew something in his notebook. “Do we have one yet?”

“Grace said her friend has a few broken ones he doesn’t really want any more,” Harry said. “I couldn’t carry all of them by myself so we’ll have to go pick them up.”

Liam asked, “Can we go today?”

“If we get there early,” Harry said. “Grace says he’s usually home from noon through nine.”

“We’ll go after this meeting,” Liam declared. Louis made a disapproving noise, which Liam responded to by throwing a velvet cushion at Louis. Louis began to sit up.

“Liam,” Niall said uneasily, holding his arm down, as Zayn turned to look at Louis. Whatever silent signal Zayn sent, Louis seemed to acquiesce.

Niall watched as Liam took a slow breath in, and he let go of Liam’s arm.

“Sorry,” Liam said. “But we only have thirteen days left to get our equipment and get good enough. Twelve days isn’t even enough time to practice.” He looked grimly determined. “We have to win.”

Niall bit his lip, and said, quietly, “We don’t _have_ to win.”

Louis seemed to shake his head at himself, and manoeuvered his legs around Harry to sit up. “No, Liam’s right,” he said unexpectedly. “We might as well try to win this if we’re going to do it.” He looked each of them in the eye. “All right? Let’s do this. Group hug!”

Harry immediately threw himself on to Louis. Niall thought he might as well take a page from Harry’s book and physically force the band to get along, and shoved Liam up from the sofa and onto the chaise, and threw himself on top of Liam. Niall looked up and saw Zayn somehow sitting relatively unscathed on Louis’ legs.

“Why,” Liam said, struggling to get up.

“Group hug!” Niall replied, and pushed Liam further into the pile.

Liam sighed. “Are we still meeting?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Louis responded in a muffled voice.

“Niall, let me up,” Liam said. Niall thought for a moment, before deciding it was safe enough to give in. He found two handholds in the mass of bodies and pushed himself up, then let himself slide onto the floor. The rest of them slowly sat up, and Liam and Harry pulled Niall back onto the sofa.

With an arm around Niall, Liam found his now-crumpled agenda. “Item three: synthesizer.”

 

Somehow, Louis had managed to talk a professor into allowing them to build a synthesizer in an actual school workshop on a weekend.

“So here’s the synthesizer,” Louis said, pulling a yellow cookie tin with a few dings and scratches out of his knapsack. Inside were a bare breadboard, a few 9-volt batteries, and miniature handmade cardboard boxes with some tiny tan nuggets that Niall recognized as resistors and a lot of parts Niall did not recognize.

Louis pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper with a schematic on it and put together the synthesizer. He connected the battery, which made an awful flat tone that went higher and lower as Louis twisted the knob.

“Not quite a keyboard, is it,” Liam said.

“If there’s several circuits with different levels of resistance, you can make different tones by closing the circuit,” Louis explained. “I have a lab to teach, so I’ll leave you to figure it out. Don’t burn my chips!”

“This’ll be so fun!” Niall exclaimed. “We’re building an actual synthesizer!”

“Great,” Liam said, slumping on into his wooden chair. “God, I hate him so much.”

Niall shrugged and said, “I like him.”

Liam picked up a resistor and examined it. “He’s two years older than us and no more responsible,” he said with a sigh. “Nothing I can do about it. We’re all signed up.”

Niall worried his tongue, feeling a bit guilty for pushing Liam into something he was this uncomfortable with. “Sorry,” he said, and shuffled closer to help Liam sort through the resistors. He held up his first one and took a look at the four colour bands, and realized he had completely forgotten what they meant. This wasn’t boding well for his exam marks.

“Um, Liam, the first one is the significant figure, right?”

Liam sighed, pulled out a scrap sheet of paper, and scribbled out a chart.

After sorting through all two dozen resistors, they initially tried adding a few resistors at random to the circuit just to see how they would make the oscillator sound. Liam angrily declared them all out of tune.

They ended up wiring the knob back in. According to Louis’ detailed notes, clearly a recent addition to his schematic, it was a potentiometer; it let them adjust the oscillator slowly and made it easier to guess how much resistance corresponded to which note. As Liam had perfect pitch, he did most of this, making Niall feel slightly useless.

They hooked up their first note, C4, easily. Liam insisted on making at least a full octave, which was thirteen notes. Once they had C4 it was easier to figure out the other notes, but by the time Niall picked out the resistors for F-sharp, there were only two resistors left.

“Leemo,” he said, to where Liam was bent over the breadboard wiring in F. “I don’t think we have enough resistors.”

Liam looked up, took a glance at the tin, and sighed.

“Sorry Li,” Niall said, wincing because he really should have noticed earlier.

“It’s fine,” Liam said, and began dismantling their hard work. He got out a sheet of paper and drew Louis’ schematic on it, and Niall placed the corresponding resistors in their spots.

“The switches for the keys go here, right?” Liam asked.

“Is that where the knob was? Yeah, there,” Niall said. Liam drew a line out, thirteen unfinished circuits on it, and labelled the resistance required for each one.

“C4?”

An hour later, they’d nearly finished assembling the circuit and Niall’s fingers hurt from pushing so many stiff metal parts into unyielding breadboard holes.

“Liam,” Niall whined, shaking out his hand.

“Liam,” came the petulant echo.

Niall looked up. “Louis! Thank god you’re here!” Then he spotted the head of curls behind their supervisor-turned-torturer. “Hi, Harry!”

“Hey,” Harry said, a guitar slung over his back.

“Gimme the guitar,” Niall said, reaching out for the case.

Harry pouted. “It’s mine,” he said, but handed it over anyway for Niall to tune.

“Don’t you have fancy economic things to do,” Niall teased, turning to put the guitar case on a neighbouring table and open it.

“I’m taking a break from learning how to rule the world,” Harry replied, pulling up a wooden stool and sitting down.

Niall laughed as he sat back down with the guitar, and gave it a strum. He winced at how out of tune the A string was and gave the tuner a good yank.

Liam asked, “Can you be here? In the building?”

“Don’t worry, we can invite people,” Louis said, waving his hand dismissively. “Even if they’re LSE,” Louis added, giving Harry a light pat on the back before striding over to take a seat at the work table. Harry blushed.

Niall handed the guitar back to Harry. To Louis, he said, “Get off your arse and help with this synthesizer.”

Louis tried out each of the eleven switches they’d attached, and then played the first few bars of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. “Sounds good.”

“It’s a bit boring though,” Liam said. Niall nodded his head in agreement, and saw Harry nodding too, the traitor.

“It could use a couple more knobs,” Louis said, and proceeded to assemble two entire sub-circuits with several inverters and a dozen or so resistors in addition to _a couple more knobs_. He hit a switch, and turned up the oscillator to make an eerie, sweeping tone, like in the old movies.

Niall pumped his fist. “We’ve got this one in the bag, lads!”

“Let’s practice some songs,” Louis declared.

Liam frowned. “Where is Zayn?”

“He forgot his passport in his locker, he’ll be here soon,” Louis said.

“Thought you didn’t a passport with your student card,” Niall said.

“Not if you’re Zayn,” Louis said disdainfully, and shook his head. “He says we can start without him.”

They all agreed, although Liam made a token protest. Louis had decided they would play through the songs in alphabetical order, so “Bizarre Love Triangle” was first, with Harry playing chords on his guitar and Niall trying for a harmony on his acoustic, Liam in command of the synthesizer switches, and Louis drumming on the table.

“We really need more than one synthesizer for this song,” Liam said halfway through the first verse, and they all agreed to cross it off the list.

They made their way through a Springsteen song (“too depressing”, Louis declared) and a Clash song (“even more depressing”) before settling on “Summer of 69”, because it sounded the best with what they had. Or it would, once they had the amp fixed up and Niall’s electric on it. Zayn arrived on their third try at sounding out the chorus and forced them to add harmonies, which made the whole process take even longer, though Niall had to agree it sounded much better with harmonies.

About an hour and an extra circuit added for an octave switch later, they had a cover of everything but the bridge.

“We should stop now,” Louis said. “We have to pack up soon anyway.” He began to stow parts away in the metal tin and Niall and Harry began to pack up their guitars.

“Should we solder those parts in?” Liam asked.

“Can’t afford to waste them,” Louis said, “though it’d sound better if we did. We’ll just have to keep checking the wiring before we use it.” He shrugged. “Also, me and Zayn have almost got an amp fixed up; we replaced two tubes but I think one of the circuits is still broken.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said, and Niall finally understood what people meant when they referred to hearts in their eyes.

Louis gave Harry a smile, before turning back to Niall. “Niall, bring your electric next time, and we’ll see how it sounds.”

“Fucking ace!” Niall actually had no idea how good the electric guitar would sound, if anything was broken, but he hadn’t ever tried it out in all the years he’d had it, so he could be as excited he wanted to. “Don’t worry about it, Liam,” he added for good measure.

Liam gave him a considering look, before pulling his chest in and pretending to huff. “Fine.”

Everything was packed away, but none of them were leaving. “We should go,” Liam said, heading towards the door, and the rest of them slowly followed.

“See you all tomorrow,” Louis said, as they exited the building.

“See you,” came the chorus, and Niall and Liam headed one way while the other three headed towards the Tube.

 

The sky was still a deep blue when Niall let himself into the bakery. Harry was in the kitchen, so Niall turned on a single light over the counter and began to set everything up.

The kitchen door opened, and Niall turned his head to see Harry coming in with a pan of cupcakes. They smelled amazing. “I don’t know what to do about Louis,” Harry said, placing the pan on the counter behind Niall.

“I think he’s warming up to you,” Niall said. He opened the display case and slid in a tray of banana bread.

Harry, who was lifting cupcakes out of their pan, huffed. “Why doesn’t he like me,” he whined. “He should like me by now.”

Niall thought about it. “I think he just has some preconceptions about you. Just talk to him more,” he suggested.

“What if he’s not attracted to me?” Harry turned around and grabbed Niall’s wrists. “Niall, why isn’t he attracted to me?”

“I’m not attracted to you,” Niall pointed out, tickling Harry’s fingers until Harry let go.

Harry, who was one of the few people who Niall was ace, looked at him in disbelief. “Niall,” he said. “Please help me.”

“I don’t know,” Niall said, making a face. “Try feeding him.”

“We’re never alone,” Harry complained. “I’ll never get a chance to talk to him.”

“So?” Niall asked. “You could go find him.”

“But he’s always in the Electrical Engineering Building,” Harry said.

Niall raised his hands in a shrug. “I have access to the Electrical Engineering Building.”

Harry enveloped him with his gangly limbs and cupcake smell. “Thank you!”

“Just lend me your Leica so I can take some photos for your wedding album,” Niall joked.

“You’re the best friend ever,” Harry said, snuggling into Niall’s hair.

 

As they settle into their evening practice in Cara’s sitting room and Niall began tuning Harry’s guitar, he watched Harry settle into the chaise, snuggling into Louis.

Niall wolf-whistled. “Well done lovebirds!”

Harry grinned brightly.

Louis turned to smile at Harry, and gave his hair a quick ruffle. “Who could resist these curls?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Niall said, getting up to give the guitar back to Harry. On impulse, he decided to envelop both of them in a congratulatory hug. “You two are so cute together!”

“Back to practice,” Liam said impatiently. Niall let go of Harry and Louis and turned to make a sad face at Liam. His flatmate ignored him and continued speaking. “Item one: we should decide on our second song so we have enough time to to practice it.”

Louis rolled his eyes, and gave Harry’s head another pat. “Did we like any songs?” he asked.

They ruled out The Clash first. “Fucking bleak English bands,” Niall said, and punctuated his statement with a loud minor chord on his acoustic. “You lot need more cheerful songs.”  
  
“We apologize for the economic apocalypse,” Louis said like a pompous bureaucrat might, one hand fixing an imaginary tie. “We are working _hard_ to construct new infrastructure and deliver new jobs. Up and down the country!”  
  
“That’s not,” Liam started to say.

“That’s a good one,” Niall interjected, laughing, willing Liam to drop it.

Zayn spoke up. “I liked ‘The Last to Die’.”

“It has a nice melody,” Harry agreed, smiling at Zayn.

Niall hummed the lead-in to himself, lowering his head and trying to map out the notes on his electric.

“Louis and I are going to have a chat,” Liam declared suddenly. Niall looked up to see Liam with one hand pointed stiffly at the door. Liam didn’t wait for Louis before he strode into the corridor.

Louis sighed. “If I die, tell my mum I died for a good cause,” he said, following Liam out and slamming the door closed. Muffled shouting ensued.

“Should we check on them?” Harry said uneasily.

Zayn shrugged. “They need to get it out of their system,” he said. “We might as well get some work done.” He got up and swiped the synthesizer from Louis’ chaise. “Chorus?”

The three of them tried, but Zayn kept playing the wrong notes so he eventually gave up on the synthesizer and returned to singing harmonies and little variations.

Partway through their third run of the chorus, Niall sighed and his guitar made a dissonant sound. “This doesn’t sound very good,” he said.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Harry said. “I can go get us some food.”

“No need,” Louis said, pushing the door open. “We come bearing baked goods.”

Niall and Harry both graciously pretended that they weren’t the ones to carry said baked goods over from the bakery, because despite Louis’ cheerful tone, he and Liam still looked like they were five seconds from butting heads.

Zayn seemed to think the same thing, because asked, “Everything alright?”

“Perfectly,” Louis chirped.

Niall frowned, and turned to Liam. “Payno?”

“We have a truce,” Liam said, ominously.

Despite the tension in the room, or maybe because of it, the five of them managed only a basic arrangement of the whole song. Niall and Liam spent the twenty-minute walk back to Fisher Hall quiet, with only the drum beat of heavy rain and footfalls to accompany them.

Strangely, Liam followed Niall into his room, which Liam never did because it was so messy, and sat on Niall’s clothes-covered bed. “I’m sorry,” Liam said.

Niall frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“You know,” Liam said.

“No,” Niall said, having no idea what he was talking about.

“You having to see Harry with Louis,” Liam explained.

“I’m really happy for them,” Niall insisted.

“You don’t have to say that,” Liam said, looking at him incredibly earnestly, and Niall sighed and mentally prepared for The Explanation.

“I wasn’t ever interested in Harry,” he said bluntly. “Or Louis, in case that’s what you’re thinking.”

“But you always seemed so happy when Harry was around,” Liam said. “And you were always clinging to each other, I thought—”

“We’re great friends, and we like cuddling,” Niall said, cutting Liam off. “I’m not really—” He exhaled, puffing his cheeks up. “I’m not really interested in like, relationships? Or sex?”

“But,” Liam said. “But you’re always making the worst dirty jokes!”

“’Cos they’re funny,” Niall said, trying not to get annoyed.

Liam sputtered. “All those jokes I’ve had to suffer through,” he said, skepticism laced in his words. “Are you having me on?”

Niall leaned back and crossed his arms, and eyed Liam. “I’m not,” he snapped. “Alright? I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Liam startled, and started shaking his head. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

“You kind of did though,” Niall said, but he’d forgiven Liam already. “Make-up cuddle?”

So, Niall thought, leaning into Liam’s shoulder. That was five people who knew now.

 

Not only did Louis and Zayn show up to their Saturday practice with a canvas bag containing a working guitar amp, they showed up with an actual original song.

“Liam wrote most of it,” Louis said, hesitantly pushing the ripped-out sheet of notebook paper towards the centre of the antique table.

“You wrote most of it,” Liam replied. “Don’t listen to him.”

Niall and Liam were in most of the same courses together and lived together, yet Niall had no idea Liam had been writing a song, never mind getting along with Louis. “I thought you didn’t like each other. When did you write this?” he exclaimed.

“We’ve been hanging out at lunch,” Liam mumbled.

Louis clapped Liam on the back. “Responsible dad here has been making me do more work,” he added.

Niall pointed an accusing finger at Liam, then at Louis. “That’s where you’ve been! Keeping a secret from the rest of us,” he added, making an exaggeratedly hurt face.

Harry leaned against him, and stage-whispered, “We should do something in secret too.”

“ _Excuse me,_ ” Louis said, coming in between the two of them. “Niall, I need you to play the chords.”

“Sure,” Niall said, going to get his acoustic out. He glanced at the sheet, and tested them out. He wasn’t very comfortable with E major, but after a few runs of the chords he gave the go-ahead to Louis.

Louis joined in, singing in a quiet tenor and shyly looking towards Harry. Midway through the chorus, Harry seemed to realize the song was about him, and he burst into a smile. Louis’ confidence seemed to pick up, and he started singing directly to Harry about how hopelessly in love he was with him, his smile getting brighter and brighter through the second verse and chorus. It was like no one else was in the room, and Niall would feel a bit left out if it weren’t for the fact they were so cute together.

Louis finished with a final, “I’m all yours,” over Niall’s closing chords.

Harry rushed across the room and enveloped Louis in a hug. “That was incredible, I can’t believe you wrote that for me,” he gushed. “Thank you too, Liam!”

“At least someone appreciates my mental scarring,” Liam said.

Louis made an indignant sound.

Harry turned back to Louis and wrapped his arms even tighter. “That was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said, dipping his head into Harry’s shoulder bashfully. Harry lifted a hand up to comb Louis’ hair.

Niall decided, there and then, to make up a research project in order to borrow the university’s video equipment. Harry’s Leica was not enough.

After another half-minute of this, Zayn whispered, “Should we leave them?” Zayn said quietly to Liam and Niall.

Niall nodded his head.

“We can hear you,” Louis muttered, and tightening his arms around Harry before finally letting go and disentangling himself from Harry.

“So,” Louis said. “What did the rest of you think?”

“It’s great,” Liam said, “and I want to see how it sounds with an electric guitar.”

“I want to see how the electric _sounds_ ,” Niall said. They hooked up the amp to the mains (apparently Harry would be paying Cara in baked goods) and the guitar to the amp, and gave it a strum.

“Fuck yes!” Niall shouted, and reached his left hand out to high-five Louis and Zayn.

“Shit, that was _loud_ ,” Liam exclaimed. “I’m so glad we’re in a house.”

They took turns—Harry playing chords on the acoustic, Louis humming the melody, and Liam and Zayn interrupting—and slowly they pieced together parts of a song from a bare melody line and words.

“It still sounds awful,” Louis said, two hours later, as they ate leftovers from Harry’s bakery shift earlier. Niall was on muffin two.

“We have five days,” Liam said, and he didn’t sound very reassuring.

Harry kicked Louis, and said, bullishly, “I think it sounds beautiful.”

Niall swallowed the chunk of muffin in his mouth. “Yeah, it sounds great.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re our friends,” Liam moaned.

“We’re also in this band,” Niall said. “If we say it sounds great, it sounds great.”

By the next practice, Louis had re-written half the chorus and an entire verse.

“I thought you had exams,” Niall said.

“It’s only two, maybe three weeks of my life,” Louis said with a shrug. “A song,” he said. “That’s forever.”

 

The next week was a lot of practice and a lot of fixing the synthesizer. Liam was developing a grudge against Bryan Adams’ music career, and spent study hours humming jazz. Aggressively humming jazz, which Niall hadn’t known was at all possible until that week. Niall, in turn, spent more time at the bakery because he needed no music. Even Harry had stopped singing eighties’ tunes during the early morning shift.

“I,” Louis said, face buried midway between the arm of the chaise lounge and Harry’s stomach in the aftermath of their latest practice, “am never listening to Bryan Adams ever again.”

“I like him,” Harry protested, poking at Louis’ shoulder.

Niall, having had to play and hear the same song for the past three hours, made a dying goat sound and looked at Harry incredulously.

“Um,” Harry said, dropping his arm. “Maybe in a couple months?”

Louis groaned. “Try a year.”

“I’m with Lou on this,” Zayn said, on the sofa beside Niall.

Harry said, sadly, “I feel sorry for Mr Adams.”

Louis turned over and reached an arm up to pat Harry on the chest. “He’s rich,” Louis said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “If you want our very deep friendship to survive this rift, you have to swear to never sing Bryan Adams again.”

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry whined, pouting.

Niall was too good of a friend. “Until the end of term,” he amended.

“And you have to let me sing A-Ha,” Harry said, still pouting.

“After this thing is over,” Niall said.

Harry sat up and beamed. “Deal!”

“I can’t believe you still fucking play me,” Niall said, shaking his head.

“It was kind of obvious,” Zayn said.

“It really was,” Liam agreed. Niall was going to make all of them buy him a meal every day for the rest of the _month_.

“Maybe we should work on the Springsteen song, instead,” Harry suggested.

Liam groaned. “If I never have to hear that guitar solo again.”

“If you’re going to complain so much about it you might as well change it,” Louis declared, pointing at the abandoned synthesizer on the sitting room table.

Liam tried out a few notes until he had the broken chords that Harry had been playing on his acoustic guitar, singing “na na na” to the electric guitar lead. Zayn joined in, harmonizing with him.

“We’re keeping that,” Louis declared.

They did not get any more practice in on Bryan Adams that day, but they finally had a cover of “The Last to Die” they could be proud of.

The next day, Liam began practice by declaring, “We are _not_ going to get sidetracked today. ‘Summer of 69’ only.”

Everyone else threw pillows straight at his face.

 

They’d been told auditions were running over time, so they were sitting on the floor outside a small room in the Union.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Harry said, curled up and hugging his legs.

“We’ve practiced so much we’re sick of the song,” Niall said, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Niall felt Harry’s jumper stretch beneath his hand and watched Harry tuck his curls further into his knees. “Don’t say sick,” he whimpered.

Louis shuffled until he was in front of Harry, and gently lifted Harry’s hands from his legs and clasped them in his own. “Breathe with me,” he said. “In, out.”

Niall saw Liam and Zayn came back down the corridor, carrying a thermos filled with warm water. Louis made Harry take a sip from it.

“How are you feeling?” Louis asked.

“Better?” Harry said, but he didn’t sound very sure.

“Want to mess around?” Niall suggested.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Harry asked.

Louis grinned. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

They banged out a very poor cover of A-Ha, and none of them noticed the door beside them opening while Niall was belting out a particularly operatic “Take on me”.

A group of girls exited the room, and one of them shook her head at the five of them disapprovingly.

“You’re very eager,” the last person, still standing at the door, said. Niall rubbed his neck as their entire band get up sheepishly. “Hi, I’m Alice, I’m one of the IC Radio DJs and I’ll also be judging the competition.”

“You do Friday afternoons, right?” Louis said. “Love your show.”

Alice laughed. “No need to flatter me. Get in the studio and let’s see what you’re about.”

Despite the overall poor first impression, their Bryan Adams cover had sounded _good_ , even if it could use a few tweaks. Waiting for the results was the hardest.

Monday morning, Niall ran straight to the Union after class, physically dragging Liam behind him by his arm, and up to the noticeboard.

His nerves hit all at once. “I can’t do it, Liam,” he said, shaking Liam’s arm that was still in the vise of Niall’s hand, unable to look up.

He felt Liam’s shift beside him. “We’re in,” Liam said, quietly.

“We’re in?” Niall repeated to himself. “We’re in?” Niall spun around and hugged Liam so tightly he was probably squeezing his life out. “We’re in!”

Niall let go of Liam, and said, “We have to find the others.”

“Louis and Zayn have class,” Liam reminded him calmly. “Harry is halfway across the city.”

Niall sighed.

“We’re meeting at a pub tonight,” Liam added.

“It’s too far away,” Niall complained. “They need to know now.”

Niall kept fidgeting throughout the day, using tables as imaginary fretboards while he took notes. They sped to the pub as soon as their last class was over, claiming a table in the corner.

Zayn arrived first, Harry and Louis a few minutes behind him.

“So?” Harry asked. “Lou refused to tell me until we were all together.”

“We made it,” Niall shouted, pulling Harry across the table and into a hug. He dragged Liam across from him in, and felt Zayn’s arm around him and Louis’ hand settling on his shoulder.

“Do we even have a name yet,” Zayn mused, still slowly sipping at full glass despite the fact the rest of them were on their second pint. “We’re going to need a name if we win this.”

“No ifs,” Louis declared. “This is only going one way, and that is winning!” He thrust his glass into the air, and a bit of bitter splashed out.

“One way, one way,” Harry slurred. “One direction. That should be our band name.”

Four out of five of them were sloshed enough to think that was a good name. In hindsight, Niall blamed Zayn for his lack of intervention, but they had all toasted to it and as Louis would say, it was what it was.

 

During Niall and Harry’s noon shift the next day, a man flung the door open, making the bells rattle loudly. He stormed up to the counter and said, “You’re that fucker Tomlinson’s band, yeah?”

“If you’re not going to be polite, please leave,” Harry said coldly.

“Tell Tomlinson that Parker’s going to fucking take him down!”

“Sorry Barbara,” Niall said as he leaped over the counter. He clamped a hand down on the man’s upper arm, said, “You’re leaving now,” and marched the man out of the shop.

“What a rude young man,” Barbara said, shaking her head. “If only all boys could be like you two.”

“Do you have any idea what that was about?” Niall whispered to Harry.

“No,” Harry said, with a worried frown on his face.

They bring it up first thing at practice.

“What the fuck,” Louis said, hands freezing over the cookie tin containing the synthesizer. “I thought that prick would have dropped out of uni.”

Niall frowned, because Louis might have a strong personality but he didn’t tend to actively hate people. “Did something bad happen?”

“Got kicked out of halls in first year,” Zayn said.

“Total wanker,” Louis added.

Liam eyed them both apprehensively. “Did one of you do it?”

“We fucking wish,” Louis said. “Rochelle, the hall senior, got him kicked out but, fuck. If that smug-faced arsehole and his friends are in this competition and we don’t beat him I will push you all into the bloody Thames.”

“That’s _disgusting_ ,” Liam said, cringing away.

“Exactly!” Louis said, slapping a hand on the antique table. “So don’t fucking lose this! We’re going to win this or die trying.”

“We have uni,” Liam moaned.

“Fuck uni,” Louis exclaimed, “our pride is on the line here! Our band _cannot_ be known as that one who lost to Tom Parker and his dickhead friends. Fuck. That.” He looked around at each of them.“Everyone agree?”

All of them nod, Liam more nervously than the rest of them.

“Good,” Louis said. “First of all: we need a plan.”

“I thought we had a plan,” Harry said.

“We have three songs,” Louis said. “Three great songs, but we need to guarantee we’ll win the crowd over.”

Niall thought back to shows in pubs back home. “If we want to win the crowd,” he said, “we have to open with a crowdpleaser and end with a crowdpleaser.”

Liam nodded. “Right, happy uptempos.”

Louis shook his head. “We only have one happy uptempo.”

“Our song is happy,” Zayn pointed out. “Just not uptempo.”

“We could speed it up,” Liam suggested. “Let’s try that? Just the chorus?”

They found their places around the sitting room. Niall tuned the acoustic, and passed it to Harry, and tuned his own electric as Louis and Liam fiddled with the synthesizer. Louis sat back down, and Niall looked up from his guitar and gave Harry the go-ahead.

“One, two, one, two, three, four!”

Louis started drumming on the table, Harry doubling up his strums to match, and the five of them belt out the chorus. A bar in, Niall changed up his chords to more of a competing melody, and Liam looked up to grin at him and switched the synthesizer an octave down to ground Niall’s guitar.

“Fuck,” Louis said. “That sounded fucking amazing.”

“I know!” Niall shouted, pushing his guitar to the side and pulling the person closest to him—Harry—into a hug. He reached out to get Louis on his other side, and Liam and Zayn’s arms surrounded them a moment later. Niall snuggled his face further in.

“I love all of you,” Harry said.

Liam shouted, “Me too!”

“I love you all too,” Louis said, “but I’m going to kill every single one of you if we don’t win.”

“Aww, Lou,” Zayn said, and someone, Niall guessed Louis, pushed his head further into the circle.

“This is going to be amazing,” Louis said softly, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear. “I’m so proud of all of us.”

Over the next three days, their last three before the competition, they kept working at the song, adding a few vocal runs through the chorus and “oh”s to punctuate the verses.

At the end of their very last practice, Niall said, “I can’t wait to perform this!”

“We’re going to smash it,” Louis said. “And if we don’t win, I want to say that I am so proud to be in the same band with every single one of you.”

“We’re proud of you too, Tommo,” Liam said, going in for a hug.

“I’m still tossing all of you in the Thames if we lose,” Louis added. “Just so we’re clear.”

 

Thanks to Liam’s insistence, they arrived at the Metric much too early. As no other bands had arrived, the staff ran them through rules and stage placements, and warned them that they would break a microphone at their own peril.

Next, they decided to check their competition.

“Parker’s band is called ‘The Wanted’?” Louis said, pushing himself up on Niall’s shoulder. “What the fuck?”

Zayn laughed. “Ironic, innit.”

“I really don’t want to lose to them,” Liam muttered from the back.

It was still fairly empty, so they decided to take over a booth in the corner, Harry taking the corner because he was afraid of being sick. None of them were drinking or eating just in case, even though Niall thought he would have been fine with a single glass of beer. Louis ended up leading them through some rousing word games as the room became more and more crowded.

At seven, a loud whistle cuts through the loud sound .

“If I could get your attention,” a man shouted from the stage. “Thank you! Welcome to the annual Uni League Battle of the Bands!”

He introduced himself as Greg, one of the judges, and introduced the other two judges, Gemma and Alice, who Niall recognized from auditions. He then quickly listed the rules and prizes, before introducing the first band.

“Let’s hear it for Little Mix!”

Four women, wearing black from head to toe, strode onto the stage. Between them they were carrying a violin and a cello; a third person headed straight for the piano.

“Hi, we’re Little Mix, and this first song is called Towers.”

The song was an emotional ballad, and Niall had to admit they sounded really good. He cuddled into Harry some more.

“They harmonize really well,” Zayn whispered.

“Oh no,” Liam said. Louis made a noise; Niall couldn’t tell what he meant by it but his face looked absolutely serious. Niall looked around at the crowd: they looked silent, appreciative.

As the last piano chord faded, there was a steady round of applause and a few cheers. Little Mix’s other two songs received equal accolades.

“It’ll be tough,” Louis said to the rest of the band, “but I know we can do it.”

A few more bands performed, and then The Wanted were announced. A loud boo came from the back of the Metric.

Louis stifled a snort and said, “I may have invited Rochelle and her friends.”

Five people stepped onto the stage, and Parker and one of the others had acoustic guitars slung behind their backs.

“Five people and two guitars,” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “I’d hate them if I didn’t hate them already.” Niall thought that was harsh, but since Parker was out to get them he didn’t feel too bad about it.

“What’s this song,” Niall whispered to Harry.

“It’s by the Goo Goo Dolls,” Harry whispered back.

“Never heard of them,” Niall said. “Sounds okay.”

Harry glared at Niall. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx us.”

Louis reached over, hand knocking into Niall’s shoulder before settling around Harry. “We’re much better than them, Hazza,” he said in a low, fond voice. “We’re going to smash it up there.”

The audience broke out in applause, and Niall hadn’t even noticed that the song had ended. The next song was a break-up song with repetitive chorus that Niall thought would have worked better with maybe a piano or another instrument. Their last song was a catchy upbeat song, but Niall kept that thought to himself.

“What a dickhead song,” Louis muttered. “They won’t be glad they came.”

Liam shushed him. “We just have to beat them,” he whispered.

Finally, it was their turn. Niall and Harry carried on their guitars and Liam the synthesizer, and they got into position and checked their instruments one last time.

“Hi, we’re One Direction,” Liam yelled to the crowd, “and this is ‘Summer of 69’!”

Niall strummed his guitar, and they were off. As Harry belted out the second verse, a girl in the front got up, dragging her friend along, and started dancing. Niall turned around and caught the eye of the first person he saw—Louis—and grinned. The energy in the room was infectious, and at the synthesizer solo Niall danced his way to Liam and matched him note for note with a bit of improvisation thrown in.

Harry sang the last line, and Niall and Liam ended with loud chords and synthesizer sweeps. The room burst into applause.

“Thank you,” Niall shouted to the room. “Our next song is ‘The Last to Die’!”

Harry and Niall started the song, Harry with broken chords and Niall with a slow bassline. After eight bars, Louis’s light voice joined in, singing, “We took the highway ’til the road went black…”

Liam sang the first chorus, and on the next verse his synthesizer came to life. Zayn led the harmony through the “la la la”s to the juxtaposition of broken chords on the synthesizer and the growl of the electric guitar. Beside Niall, Harry raised his arms, encouraging the crowd to sing along, and soon Niall heard “la la la”s resonating all around him. By the end it seemed like everyone in the room was singing, and when the band stopped playing the Union echoed with raucous applause.

“You’ve been great, Imperial College,” Liam shouted, a massive grin on his face.

“And any other unis that might have shown up,” Louis added.

“You’ve been great too,” Liam shouted. “Our last song is one of our own. Here’s ‘No Control’!”

Louis began clapping, the audience following his lead, and Niall jumped in with the bassline. Niall danced along as he sang the first two lines, and Liam started dancing when Harry took over singing. Niall and Louis looked straight at each other, gearing up for the chorus, and they came in together, Louis’ voice ringing out as Niall’s guitar erupted with the counter-melody.

Niall shifted back down a couple octaves for the second verse, with Liam leading the vocal. They were all dancing now, five of them on the stage and the entire first three rows of the crowd. After a second chorus Harry and Niall stopped playing, and Liam’s synthesizer and Zayn’s voice rang through the quieted room. A clapped beat started at the back of the room, and soon the crowd was clapping along barely audibly, like they knew they were waiting.

Louis began the chorus with just the sound of claps and bare, bass notes on the synthesizer to back him. As the rest of them joined back in, bar by bar, the clapping picked up, louder and louder, until Niall kicked off his guitar solo and the room exploded into a sea of dancing arms.

They ended with a series of loud E chords amidst a roaring din of hoots and cheers.

With one last thank-you, they jumped off the stage and were immediately accosted with congratulatory back-pats and offers of drinks. Niall took up every single offer before Liam dragged him back to their booth.

Liam collapsed into Zayn’s shoulder laughing when he saw just how many drinks had arrived at their table. “We don’t need that many drinks!”

“We do!” Niall replied as he claimed a glass for himself.

Greg came back on stage and told them they had to wait fifteen minutes for the results, and it was the longest fifteen minutes that Niall had ever sat through.

Greg, Alice, and Gemma came back on stage to a round of applause.

“We’d like to thank all the bands that have participated tonight,” Gemma began, “and everyone who has come out to support this event and student radio.” She talked a bit more about IC Radio, then handed the microphone to Alice.

Alice said, “Our runner-ups tonight are: Little Mix!”

One of the women rushed onto the stage, the others following at a more sedate pace, and they accepted the wooden trophy with a short speech.

They moved to the side of the stage, and Alice continued. “Our winners tonight are…”

“Please be us, please be us,” Liam chanted under his breath.

“One Direction!”

Niall had no idea when he had jumped up or who had started the hug but he was in the middle of four of his favourite people in the world, being hugged within an inch of his life. They ran up to the stage, and Louis took the microphone.

“This was the most amazing experience ever,” Louis began. “We put a lot of work into this and we might fail our exams and never get a job,” he said, the audience laughing along, “but I don’t regret it for a second. Thank you everyone for coming out, and you’ll be hearing more from us!”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Liam whispered after they had been led off to the side, and Harry started to send disappointed looks in his direction from the other side of their band huddle. “But there’s nothing I want to do more.”

“Same,” Zayn and Harry said.

Niall grinned against Harry’s back, and pulled them all in tighter.

“Best band for life.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [persimmonlions](http://persimmonlions.tumblr.com) on Tumblr; come say hi!


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